


Inimitable

by xxenjoy



Series: Winter Prompts 2k20 [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: Jaskier is having a bad night, Geralt does what he can to help.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Winter Prompts 2k20 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036359
Comments: 10
Kudos: 194





	Inimitable

**Author's Note:**

> Follow this series on [tumblr](https://witcher-and-his-bard.tumblr.com/tagged/winter-prompt-challenge-2k20)!

Jaskier is still sitting in the chair in front of the fire. He was there before Geralt left just after supper and he's still sitting here now, the graveir dead and the sun long set. It's almost unheard of that Jaskier sits still for so long, but when Geralt pricks his ears he can hear Jaskier's heartbeat and his slow, steady breath. It's a little too measured for Geralt's liking, but there isn't much he can do about it right now. 

Right now, he's covered in graveir gore and muck from the swamp and now that he's collected payment for the job, he needs to bathe before he can check in on Jaskier. 

He calls for a bath and gets himself cleaned up before heading back downstairs to the public area and he's disheartened to find Jaskier hasn't moved an inch. Geralt slips up behind as quietly as he can and he's hit by the overwhelming scent of rotting fruit and salt. The combination can only mean one thing and Geralt's stomach clenches as he moves around the side of the chair. Jaskier glances at him and just his face confirms what Geralt already knows. His eyes are red and swollen and his cheeks are damp. He's been crying. Geralt reaches out to him, but-

"Fuck, Geralt-" Jaskier chokes, fumbling to wipe at his eyes. "What are you doing here?

"It's been hours," Geralt says gently. "Is- is everything alright?" 

He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. No. Of course, everything isn't alright. He's known Jaskier for years and years and the only time he's seen him cry is when he was so drunk he jumped into a pond because the ducklings were too cute. This is very different than that. 

"Oh, it's- it's fine, darling. Let's get to bed."

Geralt isn't sure which is worse. The way Jaskier tries to smooth over his own pain or the fact that he seems so disinclined to talk to Geralt about it. Not that he could really blame him. He isn't good at talking about things and Jaskier's whole life is words and how to work them. He's very much out of his depth, so his shoulders slump and he curses himself for not being better at this, but he lets Jaskier lead him back up to their room. 

They go about the motions getting ready for bed, but Geralt feels like there's a pit in his stomach. Once they're alone, Jaskier does his best to pretend not to be hurting, but Geralt can smell it all over him, can feel the sadness wafting off of him. 

Jaskier strips mechanically and Geralt aches to reach out to him, to pull him close and soothe the pain, but he doesn't know how. Because how could his touch do anything but cause further harm? He climbs into bed after him, careful to keep his distance and after a little while, the sadness lessens a little. Geralt is relieved until he realizes Jaskier is just asleep. 

He doesn't know what time it is when he wakes, but Geralt is alone in the bed and it takes a moment until he's awake enough to realize there's a fire lit. He jumps out of bed abruptly, looking around until he spots Jaskier curled on the floor in front of the fire. If it's keeping him awake, it must be bad. Geralt sighs. There's nothing for it.

He pulls the blanket from the bed, padding across the room and sits behind Jaskier. He doesn't know what to do and he knows if he says anything, he'll likely make it worse, so he curls up on the floor behind him and pulls the blanket over them both. 

"You should go back to bed. We have an early morning, remember?" 

Geralt waits, but Jaskier makes no attempt to move away or to push him away so he stays. He wraps one arm around his shoulders and as he tugs him closer, there's a little choked off sob. Immediately, he releases his hold and draws back, and Jaskier curls in on himself, sniffling. His breath catches and Geralt hates himself for not knowing what to do. 

He thinks back to any time Jaskier has comforted a frightened villager when Geralt hauls back his trophy for payment. He's seen him wrap himself around them, gently stroke their arms or hands or hair and he knows Jaskier isn't scared, but maybe it will help. 

As cautiously as he can, he slips his arm back around him, fingers brushing against his arm until he can slip his own fingers between Jaskier's. He's barely touched him when Jaskier's fingers tighten around him and he squeezes. This is good, then. Without removing his hand, Geralt slips up close again, propping himself up on his elbow. 

"You can," he takes a deep settling breath and leans lower, "you can tell me what's wrong. I know I'm not the best at these things, but- maybe I could help?"

"'S nothing, just stupid," Jaskier mumbles, but his voice is still unsteady and Geralt doesn't believe him.

"If it upsets you this much, it isn't stupid. You don't have to say, but you can trust me. You know you can trust me, right?"

"Yeah," Jaskier whispers. 

Jaskier falls silent again, but he presses back against Geralt's chest, fingers still wrapped around his. It's not much, but Geralt is glad to be able to do anything and Jaskier settles a little against him. 

Eventually, even Geralt settles, nose pressed into Jaskier's hair, thumb rubbing gently against his hand. His eyelids are heavy when Jaskier finally breaks his silence, but he props himself up again.

"It's just... do you ever feel like the other Witchers are better than you? Like it makes them better because they can, I don't know, run faster than you or something?"

"Eskel is much better at signs than I am," Geralt says softly. "Lambert is better at making bombs. Why?"

"Listen don't- don't make fun, okay?"

"I would never. What's wrong, Jask?"

"Valdo," Jaskier grumbles. "It's this new song." He takes a deep breath and Geralt waits for an outburst that never comes. "It's really good. And I've been- everything I've written lately is shit. I know I talk a lot of shit, but he's actually a very good songwriter and I-"

"You're doubting yourself," Geralt realizes and Jaskier just groans and buries his face in his arm. "He could never hope to compare," Geralt breathes and he doesn't know where the words came from, but he means them. "You have-" he shuts his eyes, forcing the words out. It's too much, too close to all the things he forces down and stops himself from saying. But Jaskier deserves to hear it.

"You have the most beautiful voice I've heard," Geralt admits, "and I like your songs. I sing them sometimes when we're apart. Even the coin one."

Jaskier turns in his arms, only releasing his hand when it's too awkward to hold any longer. He looks up at him with something like awe in his expression and Geralt smiles down at him. 

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course."

"Geralt, I- what? I thought you hated my singing?"

"No."

"Then why-?"

"It doesn't matter right now," Geralt whispers, "but don't think for a moment that _Valdo Marx_ could hope to achieve even half of what you do every day. He may write well, but that doesn't take away your talent, Jask. And you lie constantly, but your songs are based on real events - most of which you were present for."

Jaskier smiles at him, reaching a hand up to brush Geralt's cheek and he looks like he's about to cry again. Geralt doesn't know what he did wrong, he thought he was doing well. 

"I'm sorry," he says quickly, "should I not-" Jaskier shakes his head immediately. 

"That's not- no, that was perfect. I didn't realize you felt like that."

He feels so much more than that, but there's no good way to tell Jaskier all of that. Instead, he tips his head down, presses a hesitant kiss to Jaskier's forehead. 

"You're a better songwriter than he'll ever be."

In an instant, Jaskier's arms are around his neck and he's pulling him down to him, kissing his lips. His lips are cold and salty from his tears, but Geralt couldn't pull away from him if he tried. He winds one arm around Jaskier's back, rolling him onto his back and deepening the kiss. 

When Jaskier finally draws away, he's panting, but smiling and Geralt is so relieved to see him smile that he kisses him again. 

"Thank you," Jaskier whispers, still holding Geralt's face in his hands. 

"For what?"

"For listening. For caring." 

Geralt doesn't know what to say, so he lays himself back down and draws Jaskier close to him. "Would you like to go back to bed?" Jaskier just smiles as his fingers slip around the back of Geralt's neck. 

"Do you mind if- this is quite nice, actually."

Geralt nods and Jaskier presses forward, burying his face in Geralt's chest and readjusting the blankets over them both. He must be exhausted because he falls asleep quickly and in the silence, Geralt decides that maybe they could afford to spend an extra night in the inn if this is all it takes to make Jaskier happy again.


End file.
